


KISSING THE LIGHTS

by AgnesClementine



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I literally have no idea what else to tag, Kissing, M/M, soft baby gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: “What are you doing?” He asks quietly, not wanting to disrupt the soft, quiet atmosphere. He feels too lazy to open his eyes.“Nothing,” Willie whispers in response, voice tilting like he’s smiling. “I’m just watching.”**********************************1k of pure fluff and soft ghost boyfriends
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 232





	KISSING THE LIGHTS

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind the title, I don't know either, I made the doc a while ago and this is what it was titled lmao
> 
> I'm up to my neck in angst and wips and my brain went "You can write a bit of soft Willex. As a treat." so I did.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

Alex loves the quiet, slow moments. It might seem contradictory to his drummer appearance- he loves drumming, it’s an outlet and it gives him a sense of control, makes him feel alive- but the times when there’s nothing going on, when he can simply exist, is where he feels like he can breathe properly.

Luke is with Julie, writing songs in her room, and Reggie is somewhere with Ray and Carlos. And Alex is here, in the studio, with Willie. Everything is peaceful, he can feel the warmth of the Sun coming in through the windows, and Willie’s body heat where Alex has his head pillowed on his thighs. He twirls a strand of his hair between his fingers; it feels silky and soft, and Willie smells like vanilla fabric softener. Absently, limbs sluggish, dozing on the edge of consciousness, Alex wishes for this to stretch into eternity. 

Before they died and he was still on good terms with his parents, Alex used to spend a week or so each summer at his grandparents’ place. They had a house up North, and his grandma had a greenhouse in the backyard; all glass windows and green plants. It smelled like clay pots and Sun-warmed wood and Alex would stretch out on a wooden bench underneath the English Ivy for hours each day. In there, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist; he was safe there.

He feels fingers brushing through his hair, skimming over his forehead. They comb through his hair a few times, carefully moving it out of his face, and then, feather-light, he feels them tracing the arch of his eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” He asks quietly, not wanting to disrupt the soft, quiet atmosphere. He feels too lazy to open his eyes.

“Nothing,” Willie whispers in response, voice tilting like he’s smiling. “I’m just watching.”

His fingers graze Alex’s cheek, falling lower to follow the curve of his jaw. Alex stops fiddling with his hair, distracted, and feels his cheeks heating up.

“Just- just watching, huh?” He asks, failing to hide his own smile.

Willie hums. He moves his fingers to briefly trace the thumb over the shell of Alex’s ear. He says, “Your ears turn red when you blush.”

Alex’s heartbeat speeds up because he still doesn’t know what to do when the transparency of his affection is brought up. He scrunches up his nose, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, it’s embarrassing.”

“Nah,” Willie disagrees. “It’s cute.”

Alex’s hands itch, so he starts plucking at the hem of his shirt. He squints up at Willie and he smooths out the wrinkles on his forehead with his thumb. His index finger touches the bridge of Alex’s nose and then goes down, all the way to the tip. He’s kind of slouching, curled above Alex’s head with one forearm braced against the couch’s armrest, and he’s looking down at him like Alex is the best thing he has ever seen in his life.

Alex doesn’t think anyone ever looked at him like that- in life or in death. He used to dream of it, before he came out and after, how someone would come along and just looked at him like that; like he’s got all the answers and they all taste sweet coming out of his mouth.

He blinks against the heat in his eyes that only means that tears are near, and tips his chin up because he’s greedy and he craves Willie’s touch like he would crave air or warmth if he was still alive.

“Alex,” Willie says, dips his finger down. It touches the soft bow of his lips and catches on his lower lip, pulling at it and dragging a shuddery exhale out of him. His heart flutters in his chest at the look Willie gives him. He doesn’t say anything else, but when Alex presses his lips against the pad of his finger (because Willie makes him brave), he gently coaxes him into a sitting position.

He feels Willie shifting around, pulling his legs up. Then he’s pushing Alex to lie back down with a hand on his chest and he stretches out between the back of the couch and Alex. He wedges one leg between Alex’s thighs and tucks him into his side, one arm gently slung over his waist, but it’s still a tight fit, and Alex braces one leg against the floor so he doesn’t fall down.

They are much closer than they were moments ago, which just makes Alex blush harder. He can’t keep eye-contact for long either, flickering between Willie’s eyes and the edge of his shirt collar, sewn into a zig-zag pattern.

He can practically feel Willie swallowing before he asks, “Is this okay with you? If you’re uncomfortable-”

“No,” Alex cuts him off quickly, looking up. “No, I’m okay. This is okay.”

“Okay,” Willie breathes out softly. That’s about as long as Alex can look at him, so he drops his eyes down, chewing at the corner of his lips, anticipation and nerves dancing in his stomach.

But Willie doesn’t kiss him. Not on the mouth, that is. He presses his lips so lightly that they almost just ghost over the thin, velvety skin of Alex’s eyelids.

Heat rushes to his cheeks with new severity and he curls his fists into Willie’s shirt as he keeps peppering light kisses over his face. Alex is going to combust. He's going to die, again- but this time, it would be a lovely death, he thinks. A preview of heaven.

Willie kisses a corner of his mouth and then finally slots his lips over Alex's. It’s chaste and sweet at first; just their lips aligned, pressing down warm and wet with gentle certainty, and then Willie’s hand on his back pulls him closer. His tongue darts out to teasingly trace over his teeth before Willie captures his bottom lip between his own lips. Alex shuffles as close as he can, heart pounding in his chest, every nerve lit-up as Willie smiles into the kiss before pulling back with a small nip.

Alex immediately tucks his face into the crook of his neck and lets out a short, breathy chuckle, soaring.

He doesn’t know what to say or what to do, so he just presses a smile into the warm skin of Willie’s throat, feels it against his lips when Willie says, “I wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Me too,” Alex admits. 

Willie’s hand slides up his back, palm splayed between his shoulder blades as he pulls him in impossibly closer. 

Alex thinks of those summers, long ago, how it felt to doze there, bathed in sunlight, and says, “You’re a greenhouse.”

It’s a weird thing to say, Alex knows. But Willie only makes a curious noise and asks, “I am?”

Alex smiles and pulls back enough to see his face. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are so warm and kind that Alex is sure he’s falling in love with him all over again. 

“Yeah,” he says and leans in for another kiss.


End file.
